Alice Brasser © 2019
by Aaron Caycedo-Kimura
misfortuned
after Edward Hopper’s Chop Suey, 1929
a man lights a cigarette at the next table
my wool coat and scarf hanging in the sun behind me
soak up the smell of fried rice garlic sauce smoke
we’ve lingered long enough this November afternoon
talked about jobs children a failed marriage
before we get up walk freeze-dried New York streets
you lean in superstitiously read your fortune to me again
under the clinking and clicking silverware and dishes
you say I got your fortune you have my life
family anthem
I walk into the garage from side door sunlight Billy Joel on my Walkman
my eyes dissolve the darkness to discover my parents locked
in a slow-dance embrace whispering to each other like lovers
but my parents aren’t lovers they’re Japanese they never kiss hold hands
never say I love you even to me once I asked my mother if she loved me
my parents never said it she replied but I knew they did
my parents hear my shuffle separate like guilty teenagers Mom escapes
into the house Dad into the station wagon opens the garage door I fumble
forget what I was looking for but all afternoon replay that dissonant chord
Aaron Caycedo-Kimura’s poetry appears or is forthcoming in Poet Lore, Naugatuck River Review, Off the Coast, Connecticut River Review, Gravel, Crack the Spine, Rust + Moth, Tule Review, and elsewhere. He is also the author and illustrator of Text, Don’t Call: An Illustrated Guide to the Introverted Life (TarcherPerigee).